


Antivist

by seafogs



Series: The City Is At War [1]
Category: EXO (Band), GFriend (Band), VIXX
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dystopia, Alternate Universe - Post-Apocalypse, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-14
Updated: 2016-10-14
Packaged: 2018-08-22 08:48:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,513
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8279971
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seafogs/pseuds/seafogs
Summary: In a city that would slowly plunge itself in a war between state and outlaws, three boys try to survive within the boundaries of both.





	

The first time Minseok meets Jongdae would be through a dispatch that gets him knocking at the doors of the Nuclear Weapon Museum.

Its name would not be as grand as its collection presents, in all its full glory. In fact, Minseok's only task was to take out some of the file cases and have them sent to Jongdae's personal storage. It seemed to him that the museum's deadline should have been around the corner at this point.

"Not to discredit you or anything, but I barely knew we had one of these," Minseok says, casually running a hand on the glass casing that surrounds a rusted replica of a Fat Man.

Over the counter, the curator looms over piles of paperwork - a varied mix of foreclosure forms, inventory lists and courier declaration papers Minseok wants him to complete before his files can be sent out.

"I can't even remember the last time anyone legitimately dropped by for a visit and not for me to sign forms," Jongdae replies, swiping away the pieces of paper he just can't seem to attend to at the moment. "It's four file cabinets; if that's any indication of how much it'll be."

Admission to the museum had been free for most of its lifespan, not that Jongdae wholly entertained the thought of having to charge people just to barely spare a glance though the priceless treasures his father had left him with. Other than that, the idea of having to let go of the museum in its entirety had been a slow burn; the thought of it like a scab that had dried out overtime, itching to be picked off.

A monosyllabic tone escapes Minseok's throat as a reply. His work as a courier gets him far; it gets him working with people and places he barely knew even existed. In retrospect, he's gone from belated ignorance to turning sentimental at the thought of historical landmarks such as Jongdae's museum going out of business.

"No problem; they'll fit the truck easily."

 

The only problem with Jongdae's personal storage space was the distance it had from the museum. Finding the place was less of a hassle; the drive there had given Minseok this realization, however.

The courier had found it so much easier to go past city limits and drive around the perimeter in order to reach the locker as opposed to going around in circles within it. Leaving the familiar confines of the city meant having to go through endless miles of uninhabited farmlands, but Minseok didn't seem to mind.

In reality, he's done this out of habit for so long, it's no wonder why clients would go out of their way just to get Minseok to deliver their things in one fell swoop. He's been working with a four other couriers that have been dispatched off into other distant areas, who also do the same tactic.

It nearly takes a four-hour drive from the city to the storage area. Fortunately for the courier, he doesn't have to worry about looking for a good place to park the truck; for the most part, the area surrounding it had been empty ever since, anyways.

When Minseok begins unloading the file cabinets from the truck, his mind replays the scene where Jongdae almost willingly hands the courier a keychain filled with equally too many charms and keys altogether.

"Why are you giving me this," Minseok stares blankly at Jongdae's bulky keychain and back at the owner. "It would probably take me longer to find the key for your locker as opposed to picking the lock myself."

"You wouldn't do that," Jongdae replies, the lenses of his glasses reflecting from the small light source above him; his attention focused on the particulars of the declaration statements. "You'd lose your job if you did."

"If you knew what my job entailed, you'd find this considerably the least of your worries."

 

Unlike most companies during this time period, almost none would even admit if they had ever done something remotely close to getting the government involved. However, Minseok's company would be an exception, in this case. 

History of his company suggests that some of their employees (who are either deceased, missing, or in permanent exile) have been involved in the confirmation of conspiracy theories that surround the government. Ever since then, every other employee that came after them has been classified as potential suspects in the event should an attempted uprising against them come around.

Therefore, it had not come as a total shock to Minseok when Jongdae had handed him his keys. In fact, it had been deemed a necessity for a courier to have his own master key that would open any locker. Should Minseok come to the inquiry on how his company had obtained this for every location their employees had been dispatched to, he wouldn't even know where to start. Jongdae wouldn't understand; he'd probably see it as an easy way out to steal other people's belongings.

 

For a significant amount of time before the apocalyptic event had shaken humanity to its core, Kyungsoo's life had been but two things: tranquil and boundless.

His living quarters had been located far from the bustle of the city. Living along the outskirts would only give him a glimpse of the things that go on behind the scenes, away from the prying eyes of those who live downtown. More often than not, he'd usually hear the familiar roaring engines from trailer trucks running to and fro from the city's limits, finding it in their schedule to ship things to other cities before the day comes to a close. Occasionally, he would come across a lone courier in his shabby beaten-up truck, assuming that too had been shaken and stirred by the unwelcoming environment of the desert that's stirring from right outside one of his windows at home.

Other than that, he spends his day growing his own vegetables and fruits in a converted greenhouse on the second floor of his home. He rarely expects visitors knocking on his door, so he doesn't have to be worried about strangers asking him for his crops. Confidence runs in his bloodstream like adrenaline when he believes he doesn't see any reason for him to leave for the city just to replenish his stock in the near future.

 

 

In the years that would eventually lead up to the apocalyptic event that would change how these local citizens would be governed, security would be tightened immensely; creating what would be the onset of a social class dispute on a monumental scale.

The government had decreed the use of barcodes and requiring every resident of the city to have one inked somewhere easily spotted. The barcodes were essentially a tool for the government to be able to check on a person's vitals, location and utilize it as their instant ticket for subsidized food rations.

Unfortunately, those who have been residing in the rural areas during this time, have not been given the opportunity to be inked. Was it oversight on the government's part? Most probably not. Not many people are privy to the information that the government's slowly overlooking the distribution of funds; taking more from the budget set aside for the development of the farmlands and using that for the advancements in the city.

 

 

Bedlam. It had been chaotic right from the beginning: from the detonation of the bombs within the city to the collapse of multiple infrastructures that had ultimately led to the death of so many people.

The demarcation line between the city and the farmlands had been blurred from the moment society ran havoc at the idea that they were no longer safe. Citizens from both the city and farmlands had inevitably mixed up; government had only resumed their rule a day after chaos had broken out. Unfortunately, the whole state would find itself turned into a blank slate in a snap; the government finally realizing they would not be able to keep track of everyone.

So, what was the next best thing? Shutting themselves out from the rest of civilization. It was a fairly simple solution: Don't want to keep track of more people you've already lost? Refrain from letting new people in the state.

A blank slate meant a new beginning, that much was the government's way of chastising to the majority. Certain areas in the city that were deemed too debilitated beyond repair and rehabilitation had been sequestered from what would be the 'new' city.

Since the apocalyptic event consequentially brought upon the significant lack of means to communicate, the government decided to return to the use of propaganda in order to reinstate the proper state of mind between citizens.

Their first propaganda was declaring that the people of the farmlands had been the masterminds behind this catastrophic event; their area being completely exposed to radiation would be their punishment from all this.

Coming from a refreshed state of mind, these people found it too easy to be brainwashed. They pushed for the creation of a border that would limit the access to the farmlands; afraid that if they didn't die from the apocalyptic event, radiation would and that would've been more depressing.

 

Minseok had been sent out on dispatch to clean out several lockers, all under one person's management. This was usually one of the more unusual tasks he had to fulfill whenever there weren’t any special deliveries for the day - or the week, for that matter.

It was a normal occurrence; people would only require of his service when it demanded so much manpower to transport something from one place to another - usually to far distances that regular citizens were not exactly too keen to do. The desert’s presence often demanded such intimidation that not a lot of people have found themselves exposed to it.

When the first set of explosions broke out, Minseok had immediately been annoyed at how the lockers had rattled from the aftershock, equally messing up all the effort he’s made on it throughout the day. The thought to run outside and check where the explosions came from soon immediately came after when he realized it was almost impossible to feel something like this on a monumental intensity unless the source was not too far from him.

Thankfully, there was no one else who could have access to the lockers as long as they didn’t get their hands on his master key. He took this as an open opportunity to seek out one person he feared might have been tangled up in this mess - Jongdae, the curator.

 

Jongdae was closing up shop when he heard the unfamiliar sound of people screaming and running off into the distance. Running under the assumption that no one would even think there would be someone in the museum, everyone who ran past it did not even bother to tell him what was happening - or about to happen, at least.

He had been descending the steps down to a tiny section in his museum filled with the replicas of the bombs his father spent so much time making when he felt the impact of the first few explosions. The museum shook with an intensity that effortlessly took down some of the museum’s prized possessions. He holds himself against the wall, watching his father’s belongings fall one by one; the shattering of the glass cases ringing in his ears incessantly. It would be too late for any attempt at a salvage; he had signed and submitted the foreclosure forms to the city hall a few days ago. It seemed like a blessing in disguise, he thinks, how easily he could let go of all of them without a sleight of hand.

Everything had fallen silent a few minutes after the first few explosions had gone out; Jongdae had become too distracted by the sight before him to force himself to leave his museum just to see what had become of his home - the city.

Instead, what he gets are the sounds of a car’s screeching wheels, fast approaching the museum. He feigns ignorance until he hears footsteps rushing inside; they’re frantic, anxious. He hears a voice, and immediately knows who it is that’s looking for him - Minseok, the courier.

 

When Kyungsoo wakes up, he finds himself inside a dark room - a warehouse, he thinks - with his limbs tied up tightly against the chair he’s sitting on. When he squints his eyes, groaning at the uncomfortable position he’s been on all this time, that’s when he realizes his mouth’s been taped shut. Squirming to no avail, he briefly tries to recall how he had found himself in this position.

_Making his way into the city in the middle of a riot was, undoubtedly, easier than it initially sounded. Security had run amok along with everyone trying their best to seek shelter when they barely knew where the bombs would strike next. Heck, he’s pretty sure no one knows who’s leading the attack to begin with._

_It had all started when Kyungsoo - for the first time ever since he had sworn he’d never set foot into the city when he had started planting his own crops out of nothing - wanted to take advantage of the chaos that had just broken out, thinking it would be all too easy for him to steal some supplies now that everyone else would be too preoccupied with their own safety._

_It was in fact, too easy, when he had stolen countless supplies he could fit in the pockets of his jacket and tattered khahis. So far, so good, he thought. He relied on the very fact that living along the outskirts had not granted him a unique barcode compared to everyone else; he could easily slip away unnoticed if he was careful enough._

_Everything was going according to plan; Kyungsoo cutting corners, running along deserted alleys just to sneak past everyone crowding up the main roads, until he finds the path before him blocked by three men in masks and thick padded clothing, armed with baseball bats._

_For a split-second he had initially feared these were vigilantes who had been tasked to seek out trespassers. Then again, no one else knew he didn’t have his own barcode except for him. He made sure he left his home wearing clothes that would have covered most of his limbs._

_It turns out that wasn’t the case after all._

_When Kyungsoo tries to run away, it’s no surprise for him to see three more of these men blocking the way he came in as well. The fact that he had not considered what to do in the event someone were to ambush him chides at his thoughts like an itch that couldn’t seem to leave him._

_The next thing he feels is the incessant throbbing pain on every part of his body that gets hit by the baseball bats; everything else slowly fading out._

His subconscious pokes at him to double check whether he still has all his belongings with him. When he tries to rattle the chair as a measure on whether the items he had stolen are still with him, they do show up; a significant weight falling on his chest and limbs when the chair would drop to the floor.

The sound had obviously alerted his captors that he had regained consciousness. Kyungsoo hadn’t noticed a door by his side when the masked men had entered the room one by one, falling in line just in front of him. Needless to say, they all looked alike given the uniform outfit they had been wearing, making it almost impossible for him to recognize who these men were and what he had to do with them,

One of them standing right in the middle approaches him, the light casually seeking the baseball bat he holds against his back. With one hand, he tilts Kyungsoo’s chin towards the ceiling, taking a good look at Kyungsoo’s face.

“What were you doing in the city?” The man asks, his voice unnaturally deep; probably the work of a voice changer, Kyungsoo thinks.

The tape plastered on Kyungsoo’s lips only aids him in not answering the question. It was not because he finds his reason as something as small as this, most certainly not. Were he to reveal the real reason why he had come to the city the very same day it would find itself fallen into the hands of chaos, these men wouldn’t let him get away with it.

Every silence would render him a hit on his limbs with the baseball bat, depending on who was wielding it. Then again, pain had crept its way into his system such that everything was consistent, no amount of pain was more than the other. The same questions had been repeated, however they never laid a hand on him except to hit him with the baseball bat or pull him up when the impact had caused him to fall with the chair.

After what seemed like several hours, sweat pools along his forehead and on the tape that surrounds his mouth still; his damp skin barely giving way to the adhesive that’s restricting his speech and his breathing. The light that shines above him remains as his only reference point to seeing the rest of the blurry warehouse before him, one that used to be filled with the men that had beaten him up, and have left him alone again.

He tries his best not to drift off into unconsciousness again when he hears footsteps from behind him. He wills his vision not to drown out when he feels he’s being carried out of the warehouse. It all feels ethereal, like a dream, all until the ropes that have tied him taut against the chair have been removed and he’s thrown against the wall in the middle of an alley. The men spare no time covering him up with large pieces of cardboard just to detract attention; when they leave, their footsteps are almost silent against the cobbled pavements.

 

“What are you still doing here?” Minseok asks, his clothes strewn in dust when Jongdae meets him halfway in the museum. “I drove here as fast as I could when I thought you may have gotten yourself into trouble.”

Jongdae sidesteps just to check whether there were still people running around outside. “Of all people, why did it have to be me? Was this one of your tactics to get me to hire you again for another dispatch opportunity?” His voice had been unnaturally deadpan, given the situation; Minseok doesn’t have the time to ask why. 

The courier pulls himself together enough to stifle the groan that’s trying to escape his lips. Of course, he thought, he and Jongdae barely know one another, so why did he have to go all this way just to check on him.

“Look, I couldn’t care less about my job at this point,” Minseok replies. “You - we - have to leave the city.”

The curator sees the courier’s truck sitting outside the museum. The very same truck that had just delivered most of his file cabinets to his personal storage area. He still doesn’t quite understand how Minseok could have access to it without requiring his set of keys to open it, but now’s definitely not the time to be asking such a question.

“I won’t leave unless you explain why I have to accompany you in whatever it is you’re planning.” Jongdae says, standing firm in the middle of the mess that used to be his workplace. Files have fallen from desks and shelves such that most of the wooden floor couldn’t be seen at this point.

“Just trust me on this; you know your way around nuclear weapons - I saw the files. Otherwise, why would you be working as a curator of a nuclear weapon museum if you knew nothing about it,” Minseok replies. “Call it conspiracy theories, fine, but I know this whole situation’s not some accident. The government had all these nuclear weapons; they were the ones who did this.”

Before Jongdae even gets a chance to reply, Minseok manages to pull him out of the museum and gets him to sit inside the truck. Just as the courier was about to take his place on the driver’s seat, Jongdae notices a crumpled figure making its way out of his makeshift hideout made from piled-up damp sheets of cardboard. His clothes had been tattered and torn; his movements showed clear signs of struggle; his head littered with thin rivulets of dried blood.

“Don’t leave the truck,” Minseok yells at Jongdae’s general direction, hoping the curator would hear him. The yelling turns out to be in vain when the courier notices the young man Jongdae has approached. The two immediately form a consensus to take the young man with them when Minseok gestures at the fact that he doesn't seem to have a barcode on his nape. Making sure there wouldn’t be anyone who would notice, they manage to pull up the injured young man and drag him back to the rear of the truck originally meant for storage space.

Once they were all settled in, the truck speeds away towards the direction of the uninhabited farmlands.

 

It would be weeks later when total peace and order would be restored in the city. The time it took for most operations to return to normal, would be the same amount of time the city government would have created barriers that would shut them out from everyone else.

Being out in the open farmlands was an entirely different story, however. Minseok and Jongdae had finally come to terms with the situation they find themselves in, with the latter forced to accept the fact that his museum had to end in such an anticlimactic way. The two coming across the injured young man - who had introduced himself as Kyungsoo - added a twist to this adventure.

“Look, I’m sorry you had to leave the museum to fall in shambles on its own accord,” Minseok approaches Jongdae, huddled in an empty corner. The three of them sought temporary shelter at old barn where the courier’s absolutely sure they won’t be discovered for the time being. “Your father; those were his prized possessions, I honestly hope you don’t think-”

Jongdae slaps him upside the head at the brief mention of the curator’s father, seething just by the look in his eyes. “You don’t know him at all; just because you got unrestricted access to those files doesn’t mean you can take part in the life he lived. The museum was his gift to me; I don’t think you realize how hard it was for me to see all his possessions fall like toy soldiers.”

The scene would be perpetually etched in Jongdae’s mind. The impact from the explosions rattling the empty bomb shells; the glass cases falling onto the wooden floor; framed posters of newspaper clippings have fallen and littered the floor with glass shards and the decayed, fraying cutouts exposed to the harsh elements that would cause it to disintegrate. The sounds were just as fresh as it had happened, Jongdae turns his face away from Minseok when he feels the familiar choke that takes over his throat; his eyes burning at the sensation of tears filling it up slowly.

At this time, Kyungsoo had been resting on another corner of the room, patched up using most of what Minseok had with him at that time. Bruises littered his skin like freckles; even the slightest movement would render immense amounts of pain to him. Then again, he had fallen silent ever since Minseok had taken him out of the dump he was thrown in back in the alley. He couldn’t find the words within him to thank his rescuers; no, not just yet.

Kyungsoo watches with tired eyes, the scene between Jongdae and Minseok unfolding before him. As much as he would want to interfere, he couldn’t. Besides, it was most likely that he felt he wasn’t in the position to, anyways.

 

“My work had exposed me to the grisly truths behind the government’s plans,” Minseok started by saying. The mere mention of the government had instantly caught the attention of the other two who were with him. Without a doubt, if Minseok couldn’t get the two of them to trust him based on the genuinity of his actions; he finds himself having no other choice. “Being a courier isn’t the best job out there right now, but it has its own set of perks, just like any other job.”

_He has seen it, first hand, one of the government’s unregistered lockers, containing several crates filled with dormant nuclear weapons. But, for what? Why would the government even want to keep nuclear weapons? Based on his knowledge, the government had several of the same lockers littered across the city and the open farmlands, probably assured of the fact that if they kept these all hidden, no one would ever find them._

_They haven’t really thought out the last part properly just yet._

_He figured keeping Jongdae as company would shed some light on these nuclear weapons the government has been keeping from everyone else. It’s no doubt that the explosions that had put them in this state were their fault as well. Despite what their propagandas had been showing - proclaiming that the explosions had been done by those who live outside the city; part of the reason why they built up strict border controls to keep them from entering._

_It didn’t take a rocket scientist for him to realize he and Jongdae would have been considered outlaws at this point. Kyungsoo didn’t seem to have any problem with that. Unless -_

“Kyungsoo, do you have a barcode?’

The courier gets no reaction from the young man, save for a brief moment where his eyes have widened significantly, almost as if he hadn’t been expecting the question. It had taken him a while, however, to shake his head in reply.

“Do you happen to know anyone who might be able to tamper with,” gesturing to him and Jongdae, the latter looking up at the courier, filled with questions, “our barcodes?”

Jongdae’s glasses are glossy and shining back at Minseok when the latter decides to spare him a glance. Almost by instinct a mental conversation ensues. 

“You’re going to get to get us killed, what the fuck.”  
“You’ve barely spared a chance to hear the plan. Hear me out, then call me out on it later.”  
“When it’s too late?” Jongdae’s look turns quizzical, tilting his head slightly. “I’m gonna hold onto that.”  
“Hold on to it as long as you want,” Minseok’s gaze returns to Kyungsoo; the young man probably slightly wondering where this is all going.

It had taken Kyungsoo a couple of minutes, but after that, the two have finally heard his voice, for the first time.

“Well, I know these two guys who specialize in those,” Kyungsoo’s eyes attempt to evade Minseok’s incredulous reaction, but he knows it’s there nonetheless.

 

The next thing Minseok and Jongdae knew, they found themselves back where it all started: the city. Rather, people referred to it as the safe zone, now. Countless holographic boards littered the walls of buildings, filled with reminders to local folk to stay within the boundaries of the safe zone. _Unauthorized personnel caught attempting to pass through the borders will be persecuted on the spot._

As if that wasn’t enough to strike fear into their hearts; once in awhile, they would easily spot one or two members of the local police loitering the streets, holding what seemed like a handheld scanner. Every so often, they would get the attention of one random citizen and ask to scan their barcode. It accounted for the countless posters littered on every street corner, filled with photos of supposed ‘missing’ people, dated ever since the bombs had taken out most of the city. Newsprints would refer to it as the ‘apocalypse’ and history had changed since then.

No one - save the two of them and Kyungsoo - else knew that barcode alterations were actually possible. Kyungsoo had led them to a forest clearing deep in the farmlands (which the two of them never actually knew existed) that housed an old hospital. The young man had introduced them to Hakyeon and Taekwoon, experts in barcode alterations. He had known the two ever since the hospital had begun its operations; at least a year, according this his foggy memory. After that, the only reason for the two to dread the thought of having to return to the city would be in the event where they would be caught by local authorities.

“Remind me again why we’re back here?” Jongdae asked, trying to hide his unfamiliarity with the city streets. Ever since the city had gone through a massive overhaul after the apocalyptic event had broken out, everything had been renamed; buildings had been given a facelift. Suddenly, the curator didn’t imagine the idea of going back to where he had been born would be so unwelcoming.

Minseok had been too busy trying to reacquaint himself all the same. It was then he began to realize maybe this is the earth’s way of firing him from his job. Everything’s different; the company may as well ask for the keys back and hire someone else for the job. Then again, what would be the use for another courier when the city had practically closed itself to its neighbors.

The thought of it all had become too unreal; all the more when the holographic billboards had decreed that the distant farmlands had been considered as irradiated; referring to it as the unsafe zone. _There will be scheduled inspections made by local border control in the unsafe zone, making sure there wouldn’t be anyone around exposing themselves to such a harmful environment. Those who will be found loitering will be immediately caught and quarantined._

“We need rations; Kyungsoo’s scouting for a new place. He figured only the two of us can get food because we still have our barcodes,” Minseok replies, trying his best to remember which street goes where; the fact that his home has changed in just a span of a couple of weeks is disorienting.

Jongdae replies with a soft hum, trying not to think too much about the alterations their barcodes had to go through before they left for the city. Sneaking past strict border control was already too difficult to begin with.

 

_Minseok had considered himself lucky he hadn’t received any formal letter of dismissal coming from his company; it had given him the open opportunity of entering the city with his ID alone. The government knew about the courier’s special duties, all the more this had been one position of its kind to be given to someone, along with a tremendous amount of responsibility. He realized his master key and barcodes would only be backup at this point._

_The courier and the curator both held their breath when the truck slowly made its way to the border that had separated the city and the irradiated farmlands. Jongdae had been seated beside Minseok when the latter held out his ID, the other hand finding itself intertwined between the curator’s slender fingers. For the most part, Minseok tried not to think about how Jongdae’s warmth slowly found itself creeping up his skin and settling down on the pit of his stomach._

_The border inspector took a good look at Minseok’s ID; probably taking his time to register the name of his company and what his work actually entailed. Inspectors normally don’t ask him questions; running under the assumption someone sent him out on dispatch again. They knew the drill; this wasn’t something new._

_Minseok and Jongdae released a shared breath they didn’t know they had been holding in this whole time when the inspector returns the former’s ID and opens the electronic barrier for the truck to enter the city._

_It was at this point Minseok hadn’t realized Jongdae’s hold on his hand was tighter than ever. The threat was evident and all too real; they were outlaws and no one else needed to know that._

 

The trip back to the farmlands only proved that the government still believed Minseok was still working as a courier under their watch. For the time being, this was still a good thing to exploit - between the three of them, of course.

Gathering rations depended on two things: the person, and their barcode. The barcode’s technology included most of what the government needed to track the person down as well as take note of the finer details such as their health, ideal amount of food intake, as well as other personal information. Essentially, Minseok and Jongdae’s barcodes are totally different from one another, which therefore meant they would have a different set of rations, befitting their supposed ideal diet.

However with their recent barcode alterations, Hakyeon - a former employee working under the government - easily tampered with the information. Taekwoon, one of Kyungsoo’s old friends, did most of the physical altering of the barcodes to hide the obvious changes. The alteration had changed most of Minseok and Jongdae’s personal information but keeping most of their health consistent; in the event were local officials alarmed at the sudden change when this wouldn’t be reflective in their physical appearance.

The two of them didn’t expect Kyungsoo to have been all too eager to welcome them home and sort out the rest of the rations for them when they collected themselves for the time being.

“It took me a while to find this,” Kyungsoo starts, casually going through small crates filled with canned food items, reading up on their nutritional facts and expiry dates. “There’s an old bed and breakfast on the west side of the farmlands; I was thinking we could move there.”

Minseok and Jongdae took a good look at each other, and back at Kyungsoo. “A bed and breakfast? That’s going to be too big for the three of us.”

They hear the familiar sound of creaking cabinet doors being closed. “That’s the point,” Kyungsoo replies. “It got me thinking; what if we’re not the only ones roaming around this wasteland? There’s got to be more people out here hiding in plain sight. So why not keep them all in one place?”

The thought had been inconceivable; several questions ran through Minseok’s mind. Jongdae, on the other hand, was too busy thinking about what other nuclear weapons the government may be hiding now that the city had considerably shrunk in size after the apocalypse. 

Kyungsoo had fallen silent when none of them would pitch in a comment, at least until the young man was about to speak once again and Jongdae had cut him off halfway. “If word got to Hakyeon and Taekwoon, they could probably tell their clients about it; it’s not a bad idea.”

The farmland dweller brightened up at the comment. “Actually, that wasn’t the only thing I found, in case you two were worried about having to deliver rations, considering we’d be too far from any of the city’s borders.”

 

Visiting the abandoned bed and breakfast was a dream in itself. Kyungsoo would only be surprised to hear the other two actually found the place familiar when the three of them were standing right outside the building.

Collective reactions of “I’ve been here before” and “Wasn’t this--” filled Kyungsoo’s ears, slightly unsure if those were to be taken as compliments or not. In reality, the abandoned bed and breakfast used to be one of the renowned boutique hotels of the city. It had been just recently that the city had decided to forego the building when they realized people chose newer residences as opposed to this. One thing was for sure, however, the old charm never seem to have left the place; everything would still be the same when they would enter it. Its facade would only present itself with crumbling walls; its destruction imminent, at this rate.

“I totally forgot about this place,” Minseok whispers to himself when they enter the building. Its familiar musky scent creeps up on all three of them, leaving goosebumps when just one whiff would immediately transport them all back to their childhood; back to when this building had just opened its doors to the public. It’s rather disappointing how such a historical institution such as this would be left out in the open farmlands; deemed condemned to the general public. “I was beginning to think I was going to lose my faith in you,” he continues, pulling Kyungsoo closer to him.

The trust Kyungsoo had managed to earn from the two of them had blossomed ever since they had rescued him several hours after the masked men had thrown him out only to be covered up with damp cardboard boxes. Ever since then, the young man felt that he needed to make up for the fact that Minseok and Jongdae both had barcodes and had a much better chance of keeping the three of them alive so long as they were together. It seemed right that he easily knew his way around the farmlands; he brought them to his home as soon as he had fully recovered from his injuries. At first, the two of them didn’t take kindly to this, at least not until the had seen the young man’s attempts at surviving out in the farmlands alone by being self-sufficient. After that, Minseok and Jongdae had agreed to taking Kyungsoo in as part of their company.

 

“This whole time,” Jongdae whispers to himself. There was that odd feeling in his chest again; the nostalgic thought of being reunited with his family. He had shaken off those memories so long ago; ever since his father had asked him to meet him in their basement, and handed him that one crate filled with all his personal notes on nuclear weapon research. That would have been the first of many other encounters he’d have with nuclear weapons, until his father would eventually pass away and Jongdae would open up the museum to honor the life he had lived. “It’s no wonder I’ve always felt as if I’ve left something important behind.”

It had been late at night; it would always be around this time when the memories would creep up on him like shadows casually watching him while he’d be half-asleep, fearing for his life and whether he’d be killed in his sleep. It was always around this time when he’d recall his family; his sister, Sowon. He hadn’t thought about her this whole time; where could she have gone? Is she still alive? He had never bothered to take the time to tell either Minseok nor Kyungsoo about his family; or anything more about his personal life next to the work he used to spend so much time on.

Someday, he’ll have to tell them. After all, the past always comes back to haunt them in one way or another, eventually.

**Author's Note:**

> Title based on the song by Bring Me the Horizon. I'm eternally grateful for C and V for holding my hand every step of the way whilst I would cry over all my schoolwork. Nevertheless, I had so much fun conceptualizing this AU with my team! Special thanks to the mods for their patience and hard work.


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